Personal Anecdotes of a Muggleborn Witch
by MasqueraderNumberOne
Summary: This can be considered an AU set in the Marauders timeframe. Meg O' Halloran is a muggleborn witch destined for life at Hogwarts with Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. Add Lily, Severus, Regulus and the rest of 1960s Hogwarts and wait for the cannonade
1. Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Chapter One – Should I Stay or Should I Go? 

p 

Meg O' Halloran was ten years old and almost ready to go to secondary school. She thought that six years of primary school would have prepared her for anything, and unlike many of the kids of her own age that she knew, she was actually looking forward to the end of the summer holidays. She didn't have many friends at her old school but maybe that this could change at her new school. Perhaps they would understand her more here. She tended to pick things up faster then the other children and occasionally small accidents would occur around her. Meg just brushed these off as crazy accidents.

p 

Ever since her father had died, her mother had stopped caring about her. She worked long hours at her office job in the city and as Meg was an only child she often had to look out for herself. It was 1968, The Beatle's had split up and the swinging sixties was drawing to an end. The summer dragged on, long and hot; Meg was bored. July was closing to an end, only another month or so until her new school started and Meg was going to attend the prestigious grammar school in her town. She thought that maybe her mother would be proud of her but she just looked vaguely surprised at the news. Meg privately thought that she probably didn't read the report cards that she always left on the table for her. This particular day was a Monday and Meg already had her entire day planned out. She was going to make herself a nice breakfast and then go to the library for the rest of the day. If anything could cheer her up the library could. After all it was her birthday, she should be able to do what she wanted and be happy for the day, shouldn't she?

p 

She was just placing her used pots in the sink, opposite the table, to wash up when she got back when a startling event happened. An owl flew in the window! As Meg was rather small in stature for her age and had a deceptive air of fragility about her, the owl seemed very large in comparison and Meg was, to put it lightly, startled. She stifled a small scream and continued to watch as the handsome bird alighted on the kitchen table. The brown owl held out its leg to Meg. She wasn't going to go a cross there! What if it bit her or something? She wouldn't risk that. She couldn't be bleeding all over the table (especially after it had had a dirty great owl on it); people have to eat from it! That's just not hygienic. The owl was _still _looking at her with its large, round eyes. They were very disturbing eyes. The owl seemed to become bored after another minute or so of the mutual staring competition and eventually dropped its leg (Meg noticed that this leg had very sharp talons); back onto the table, along with whatever it was holding. She stepped closer to the table, and then took another step again, she was almost within arms length of whatever the owl had dropped when it let out a loud hooting. Within seconds she was back across the other side of the kitchen. What a birthday this was turning out to be. The owl hooted again, managing to sound both haughty and impatient, then took off and soared through the kitchen window leaving Meg alone, with what looked like an official letter.

p 

Looking at the front of the letter was no help at all, it only had her name and address on and she already knew both of those. She was interested to note that they were written in a cursive handwriting that was very elaborate. She slowly turned it over, not knowing what to expect. What she saw was intriguing to say the least. It was something that looked like her new school's crest, but this crest was much more elaborate and looked like it was very old in design. Meg decided there was nothing to lose if she opened it. She took a deep breath and focused on the rather odd feeling paper before her.

p 

Miss. M A O' Halloran 

I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A representative from the school will call at your residence within the hour to inform you about the school.

Sincerely

Dumbledore

Pf. of Transfiguration and Dpt. Headmaster.

p 

Meg stared at the paper dumbstruck. A school of witchcraft? That was just not possible? Witches didn't exist! They couldn't. People would know about it if they did. There was a loud rapping at the door and she glanced at the clock. Half of the morning had gone! That's what you get for being scared of a stupid owl she thought crossly. She stumped to the door and opened it. Then looked up. And up, and up. Standing on her doorstep, in the almost absurdly ordinary part of Lincolnshire that she lived in stood a man. This was definitely and absurdly ordinary man. He had the bluest eyes that she had ever seen. These were set off by his very deep mahogany coloured hair, which he wore long, matching his beard and moustache. He had the kindest face of any man that Meg had ever seen. For several moments she looked up and he looked down and they took each other's measure.

p 

**A.N:**** I just want to mention that this is going to be set in the Marauder's era and is not going to strictly follow canon, so it could be considered AU as I am making some characters older and some younger, primarily so I can have them all in the same academic time frame. Any constructive criticism is welcomed as this is my first fan fiction piece and I need all the help I can get. I know it isn't very long and that there is hardly any speech in it, but this is kind of an introductory chapter. **

**Oh yeah, and in case you didn't know, I don't own Harry Potter or anything associated with JK Rowling. I do, however, own Meg O' Halloran. **


	2. Changes

Chapter Two – Changes Chapter Two – Changes

He looked down at the small child. Looking at her, he could see that deep underneath all the intricate layers of her personality, her spirit belied her small stature. He asked gently

"May I come in?"

She looked thoughtful and then produced, in a very reasonable voice

"My Aunt says that I mustn't speak to strangers or people without 'forms of identification'".

Albus almost smiled. He could hear the quotation marks fall around that particular sentence. The child was indeed intelligent for her age. The reports that he had read from the Muggle School had said that she was very bright indeed.

"Did you receive a letter this morning Megara?"

Meg stared at the man. How did he know her name? She certainly hadn't told him, because she had never seen him before. He knew her full name too! Almost no one knew her full name; it was so unusual that she didn't like to use it, because it just invited comment from people. Usually from people with names like Joe and Sally, ordinary names. They always asked why was she called that. What was she supposed to answer to that question? The stock answer was "Yes, thank you, I think it is". Only, she didn't think it was a nice name; it just made people notice her more. Her feelings were written across her face and were extremely easy to read.

"Ah I see, maybe I should just call you Meg then? Would that be alright?"

Meg nodded slowly. What was he even doing here? He was even wearing a dress. Meg thought she probably didn't know very much, but she did know that men didn't wear dresses, and they definitely didn't wear brightly coloured dresses with embroidery on them. Even most of the women that Meg knew didn't wear dresses, except the one that Aunt referred to as "That Woman". The capitals sat on those words nicely.

"I suppose you have a lot of questions, Meg? Could I maybe come inside?"

"You haven't shown me 'a form of identification' yet, sir".

And would I even know what one of those is, she thought to herself wildly. But he produced an object anyway, and looked carefully at it before he showed her. It had a dark burgundy cover and the man flipped one of the covers open and held it close to her face. Inside had a small picture of his face; he looked solemn, and businesslike in the picture. And at least he was wearing proper clothes, she thought.

"Will this be acceptable, do you think?". If Meg had been just a little older or a little wiser regarding people she may have noticed the mildly ironic tone he used with that question.

She looked at the paper some more, the picture was definitely of him, she thought. It said his name was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Gosh, his name was even more outlandish than hers! The paper also said where he was born, but the letters were so small she couldn't read them. Meg's eyes quickly scanned to the next line down, he was born in … 1881? Surely not she thought, after some quick mental calculation where she managed to only mouth the numbers and not whisper them, as the man looked on in amusement, she realised that that would make him over ninety years old. But he looked so sprightly. She looked at him quickly and he smiled with his eyes.

"I'm afraid to say its all true, dear."

"But that makes you really old" she said, and then gasped. Gosh he must think she was so rude. Her face was on fire now; the heat was creeping up her cheeks, to light her face up like a beacon. With his eyes still smiling he replied

"I am indeed 'really old' as you put it, child, and yes I have a more outlandish name than you too. Perhaps this really old man might come inside to sit down now?"

"Oh G-gosh, of course, the paper thing looks all right, I'm sure it's all right".

She opened the door, and let him in. He crossed the room and sat down at the table, almost as if he belonged there. He made himself comfortable by putting his elbows on the table and leaning forward, he steepled his fingers and placed his chin on them. This made his face much closer to the table and once Meg had sat in her seat, opposite him, it meant that she could more easily look into his face. She almost snickered when she looked at him. He looked so undignified sat there, his position at odds with his dignified person. Well Meg thought, that he would look dignified if only he weren't wearing a dress.

"Now Meg, did you recognise my name when you read it?"

She racked her brains, Dumbledore? Dumbledore? She was thinking hard now; her eyes strayed across the table to the letter with the elaborate writing. Of course, it was Dumbledore. He was the man who wrote the letter.

"But surely sir, that letter was a joke wasn't it". She laughed nervously. "Witchcraft doesn't exist, I know all about it, I read a book in the library. It said that there were scientifric, scientrific"

"Scientific" he said mildly

"Yes! Scientific", she was cross that she hadn't got that word right, "scientific reasons for everything that people said the witches had done, so there really aren't witches, sir".

Dumbledore sighed and looked her straight in the eyes

"Yes of course there are scientific reasons for all those things. But Meg, have you never wondered, what if there were really witches, and wizards. Magic and dragons and maybe there is a school that teaches people how to use it. Not in bad ways like those people said about the other witches, but in good ways, to help people and to protect them, but also to have fun. A place where you could learn about magic." Meg thought that he was starting to look mildly fanatic now, there was an odd glow in his eyes.

He looked at her shrewdly and said, "Don't you want to learn, Meg, and don't you want to harness that power that you know is inside you? Did you never make anything odd happen before?"

That set her to thinking. Yes, odd things had happened before. Once the teachers hair had flashed neon pink before changing back to a nondescript mousy brown, and another time, she had been able to outrun the fastest bully in the playground, she had thought it was just by sheer will.

"Look mister, I'm going to the library now because it's my birthday today, so you are going to have to leave. And this isn't funny you know, don't you know that men don't wear dresses".

At this Dumbledore started chuckling and Meg sat at the table becoming more and more indignant. She glanced at the clock. Great, the morning was nearly completely gone, now she would have even less time at the library, and all because this man though he was funny. This was her birthday things like this shouldn't happen on your birthday.

Dumbledore rudely interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Meg, did you read the letter that you received this morning?"

"Yes, I did, it wasn't real though was it?"

"Yes, it was real, I sent it myself so I know it was real. What I need to know now, is do you want to go to Hogwarts, you don't have to say yes, you can go to a Muggle School if you would like".

"What's a muggle?"

"A muggle is a non magical person".

"Like Aunt?"

Dumbledore paused, and with a thoughtful look on his face he said "Yes, like your Aunt, but you are a witch and so should go to a magical school so you can learn how to control your magic".

"Are you sure this isn't a joke, sir? If you are sure it isn't then I would like to go to the school" she said shyly. She wondered how so far, she had been so bold that she could talk to the man without stammering or looking at the floor. He did have a very kind face though.

"Yes I am sure it isn't a joke Meg. You can call me Professor Dumbledore if you like, I'll be your Transfiguration teacher at the school. Now I shall send another teacher to you shortly as you need to go shopping for your school things and your mother needs to be informed of your decision. Do you know when she will be back?"

Meg shook her head sadly; she never knew when she would be back. After all it was 'no business of hers'.

Dumbledore only said "Hmmmm" and shook his head softly. He would send Minerva he thought, she would adore this sweet child who was so neglected.

"Now Meg, I shall have to go as I have more children in the same situation as you to see, but I shall send another professor to take you shopping, her name is Minerva McGonagall, and I shall inform her to bring a form of identification with her, shall I?" he asked jokingly.

Meg blushed and looked at her feet, she was wearing socks that didn't match, one pale blue one and one pale green one. When she looked back up, Dumbledore had gone.


	3. Library Adventures

Chapter Three – Library Adventures Chapter Three – Library Adventures.

Darn the man, thought Meg. He didn't even tell me what day the other teacher was coming. I want to go to the library, and with that thought she started scowling mutinously. Well I will go to the library, if I want, who's going to stop me? Certainly not mother.

"Yes I will go".

She looked at the kitchen clock once more and the time had whizzed around. Meg wondered how long she had been thinking about that man, Professor Dumbledore, she corrected herself. It was now after One in the afternoon, and the dishes from breakfast had still not been done, and she hadn't gone to the library, the one thing she had promised herself to do today.

"Well I'll just have to leave them until I get back then" she said aloud to the empty kitchen. "I'll be back in plenty of time before mother anyway".

And with that thought she put on her shoes and coat that were behind the back door, double checked that she had locked it and trotted out in the direction of the library, only a five minute walk from the house if she cut across the snicket. She knew this was dangerous at night as it was very enclosed, but at just after One pm, she thought it would be fine.

Meg hummed to herself as she walked along and tried out a jaunty whistle that fell sadly flat, mainly because she could only whistle for seconds at a time. But, as she told herself, the humming was fine and it was even nearly in tune. The tune that she had made up that is. Not everyone can be musical, she thought defensively. Meg even made up tunes to herself, it was like having your own theme tune, she thought gleefully.

Around the next corner Meg could see the library; that majestic red roofed building that nearly gleamed in the afternoon sun. It was painted a snowy white, which threw facets of light from it, enough to daze the casual passers by. Meg looked closely at them; it was interesting to watch the townspeople. She saw two teenagers walking past, sporty types with trousers cut of at mid calf to stop them from catching on the spokes of the wheels of the BMX bikes that they were trailing along with them. One of them saw Meg and winked at her, making her blush, so she turned her attention to an altercation across the street that she watched with fascination.

"Oh please darling, won't you get up?"

"Don't want to, want sweets"

"I'm sorry sweetie but you can't have them. You know what the dentist said, you can't have any more, because you've already had one today".

Meg was astonished. Surely the boy was the same age as her, and he was throwing a tantrum in the middle of the pavement. And she thought, with satisfaction, it was an unsightly tantrum too. The boy's face was turning bright red with exhaustion and he had started to sweat badly. His hair was stuck to his face and she could see sweat-patches on his t-shirt.

"Please, darling. I have such a lot to get done this afternoon. Won't you get up and you can have some fruit this afternoon".

"Don't want fruit, want sweets".

Meg was fascinated by this tantrum, the boy wasn't even articulate, he kept missing words out of his sentence. The mother was starting to look harassed.

"Get up now darling, because we have to get on and I can't waste any more time. You're drawing attention to yourself and we know that little gentlemen don't do that, don't we?"

"Don't want to be a gentleman" he wailed.

The shrieks were getting louder and louder and Meg could see that a pair of old ladies had stopped and were now staring at the boy.

"I would never have dared to pull that stunt when I was a child, would you Edna?" said the shorter of the two, she looked like a kindly old sparrow, brown all over with a wrinkled face, but with inquisitive dark eyes. She turned towards her companion, a lady with snowy white hair piled up on top of her head, wearing a bright purple coat, in startling contrast with her companion.

"Never in my life Nora, never in my life. Why I'd have had a good thrashing just for attempting it," She shouted across to the younger woman, "and well deserved it would be too, young lady. He needs a lesson in manners towards his mother".

Well, enough is enough, though Meg, sad to miss such a noteworthy scene, but the library was beckoning, and that man had wasted a lot of the morning, she might just have time to browse the shelves and read a chapter or so, before she had to leave for home. She pushed open the heavy doors and wandered inside. The librarian at the desk looked over and said a cheery

"Good Afternoon, Meg" to her. "You're a bit late today aren't you?"

She was the kindest lady that Meg knew. She was a little over fifty years old but still had striking dark brown hair and the most piercing blue eyes, which were hidden by a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles, that she hung around her neck on a bronzed chain.

"Yes Mrs. Hopewell, I am, but I hope I'm still in time" she said anxiously

"Well we don't close 'til three dear, so you've plenty of time. Now a small bird told me it was your birthday today, so would you like a piece of Parkin? My sister sent it over especially, and said to say a Happy Birthday from her and I won't take no for an answer. Now would you like a cup of tea to go with that?"

Meg stared at her for a few seconds and her eyes began to water, no one was ever this nice to her and Mrs. Hopewell wasn't even family, although she was the person that Meg saw most regularly. She managed to gulp out a

"Yes p-please, Mrs. Hopewell" before she started bawling in earnest. Mrs. Hopewell took it all in her stride however, and just came around the desk clucking about how 'no one ever thought about Meg and such a small thing isn't enough to upset a body'. She made Meg sit in a chair, and cut her a generous slice of cake, whilst pretending not to notice that Meg was drying her eyes on her sleeve.

"Th-thankyou so much Mrs. Hopewell" Meg said tremulously, "this is the nicest birthday ever".

Privately, Amelia Hopewell wondered what the mother was playing at, by neglecting the poor little girl. Well at least she's had some sort of cake today, and interaction with some people, even if it was only me. I wonder how many people she sees throughout the week. I'd wager it's only me and that nice shopkeeper across the road. Maybe she sees the mother once every day, before she jets off to work in the morning. It's a crying shame, she thought, and the child needs some friends of her own age.

Meg left the library just before three o'clock when Mrs. Hopewell was shutting up. She sent her off with a generous piece of Parkin wrapped in a napkin, and a kiss on the cheek.

With a library book tucked under her arm Meg trudged up to her back door. In more ways than one it had been a wearying day. She unlocked the back door, by standing on tiptoes to reach the lock, and pushed the door wide open. Stepping inside she noticed a rustling noise under her feet.

"Wonder what that is" she said aloud pensively, before dropping her gaze to the floor. On the mat, there was a letter just like the one she had received this morning. At least there was no owl this time, she thought with some relief. She picked it up with some trepidation, hoping that it wasn't the man telling her it was all one big joke after all. Please, please don't be that, she pleaded. She opened the letter. This one read.

Miss M A O' Halloran

I am to inform you that, it will be my pleasure to collect you from your home and escort you to Diagon Alley to purchase school supplies for your first year at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please be ready promptly at Nine am tomorrow morning.

Sincerely

M. McGonagall

Pf. of Transfiguration.

**A. N: For anyone who doesn't know Parkin is a cake type thing made in Yorkshire, It's rather like gingerbread, I grew up on the stuff, it's heavenly. Any other words need explaining, then feel free to ask away. Thanks. **


End file.
